


summer days, driftin' away

by qjett



Series: but oh, oh those summer nights [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) is So Done, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Carnival, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Keith is a mechanic, Kissing, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Rivalry, Summer, Summer Romance, acxa is a badass, mentions of Ezor and Zethrid, you can pry these characters from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 06:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qjett/pseuds/qjett
Summary: Lance works at the carnival, running a very rigged and quite unpopular bottle toss booth. Keith works at the much more playable Whack-a-Mole booth across from Lance. They have a rivalry, until Lance's truck stalls and suddenly Keith is some hotshot mechanic. Cue Lance's bisexual panic.





	summer days, driftin' away

**Author's Note:**

> whew! this is the last installment of the summer nights series, and boy is it a doozy. i think this is my longest one-shot yet. hope you enjoy!

   It was hot. Don’t get him wrong, Lance loved it hot. But that was only on the beach, stripped down to just some short swimming trunks, turning his bronze skin even darker. Not behind a small counter with barely enough shade while kids hit him with plastic balls, missing the (very rigged) bottle-toss game behind him. The crappy fan that was stationed at the corner of the booth was doing little to alleviate the heat. This was not what he had envisioned for his last summer before going off to college. But he needed the money, so here he was. Sticky and exhausted.

 

   “Somebody needs a break?” a soft voice asked beside him. Lance turned to see Allura, his best friend here, who had clearly been relaxing in the cool shade up until this point. Her luscious white curls were pinned messily in a bun, but it was tasteful because it was Allura. She also had no signs of pit stains. Lance ran a hand through his frizzy hair, a waft of his own B.O. hitting his nose. Boy, Teen Spirit was useless against this heat.

 

   “Allura,” Lance sighed, “I could kiss you right now.”

 

   “Please, don’t,” Allura laughed, her voice tinkling like wind chimes. Lance hopped the desk as Allura took his place, promising he’d be back to relieve her soon. But holy _God_ did he need to refresh himself.

 

   It was almost over. The summer was coming to an end, Lance would go back to school, the carnival would go out of town, and the smell of popcorn and fried foods all but a memory in everyone’s minds. _Two weeks_ , Lance assured himself as he made his way to the staff locker rooms. _Two weeks, and then you’re totally dunzo. You can do this._

 

   He slipped through the back door of the locker room, just to avoid his manager, Coran. Coran was a good man, but he had the tendency to talk too much and before Lance knew it, his break was over. Not ideal. He shut the door behind him and wheeled around to see a shirtless, tall (but definitely _not_ taller than Lance) boy with a muscular back and an ass for days.

 

   _Keith_. Keith couldn’t see Lance, because he was extremely oblivious. But they were rivals – Keith ran the Whack-a-Mole booth across from Lance, which was much more popular than Lance’s booth, and it would be fine, except Keith had no personality and Lance would be so much better at that job. The only thing Keith had going for him was his muscles. And his slender, handsome face. But other than that, the boy was pretty much dead inside.

 

   Lance stomped passed Keith, not sparing the other boy another glance. He opened his locker and pulled off his polo, ready to give Keith a show of putting on more deodorant. He probably did it better than Keith, considering every time he got close to him, all he could smell was leather and gasoline. Totally gross. Even if it was a bit sexy.

 

   “Hey, Lance,” Keith greeted behind him, _obviously_ being phony. “Didn’t see you come in.”

 

 _Oh, you didn’t, did you?_ Lance rolled his eyes. _Of course, you didn’t. Loser._

   “Well,” Lance replied shortly, “I’m in.” He tossed a fake smile over his shoulder as he slid on deodorant.

 

   “Yes,” Keith said. Lance could _hear_ the stupid smile in his voice. “You definitely are.”

 

   Lance grabbed a new polo, tugging it over his head. He wanted to run some water through his hair to bring some life back into it, but he could do that anywhere else. Keith was stifling his spirit with his lack of joy. He wheeled back around to see that Keith was still shirtless, his polo in his hands. He had a light scar that sliced up the right side of his cheek, ending at the top of his cheekbone. On anyone else, it would’ve warped their features. But on Keith, it made him look rugged and badass. Of Fucking Course. _And_ he had a goddamn six-pack. Lance glared.

 

   “See you on the battlefield,” Lance snapped, slamming his locker shut.

 

   “Lance?” Keith cocked his head. He still had a wry smile on his face, crooked and totally not attractive. He moved his slender index finger to the left side of his chest, right on his pec, and tapped a couple of times. “Your nametag.”

 

   Lance looked down to see that he forgot his nametag. He wrenched open his locker to take it from his discarded sweaty polo. Keith had won this battle, but Lance would get him back. They still had two weeks before it was time to leave for college, and Lance wasn’t going to hold back. This was a war.

 

   The door to the locker room swung shut behind him as he stomped back out, angry that Keith had gotten one up on him and that he had let him. He was fuming as he went the bathroom to dampen his hair and as he approached his booth, where Allura was sitting. She had red heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, a big pink bubble of gum ready to burst from her mouth. She always looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue.

 

   Keith was at his booth already, which was in full swing. Lance rolled his eyes swinging over the counter of his own barren booth. Allura looked up from her book, an old paperback that she had probably snagged while thrifting. It was clear it was a classic from the cover. Allura was extremely well-read.

 

   “Have you seen Red?” Lance scoffed, gesturing to Keith. That was his codename for the Keith since he always tied his black hair back with a red hair tie. A total tool move, if you asked Lance.

 

   “No,” Allura replied, looking back down at her book, “because I haven’t got a stiffy for him.”

 

   Lance started spluttering, outraged Allura would even suggest a thing. “You—! I would _never_ – I _have_ never!”

 

   “Romelle, darling,” Allura addressed behind Lance, “how stupid is Lance being right now?”

 

   Lance turned to see Allura’s spunky girlfriend in a clown costume behind him. The carnival had several quirky characters roaming around the park – Romelle was dressed as one of Leo the Talking Lion’s clown friends. Anyone else would look like they were seconds away from a brutal suicide, but not Romelle. She was as perky as ever, her silly makeup intact and blonde pigtails defying gravity.

 

   “I don’t know the context,” Romelle chirped, “but I’m going to assume incredibly.”

 

   “That would be correct,” Allura nodded, slipping her glasses down her nose so her icy blue eyes pierced through Lance. “Thank you, love, have fun parading around the park.” She blew Romelle a kiss, who caught it with a smile.

 

   “Bye, lovely!” Romelle waved, skipping away. “Don’t be a dumbass, Lance!”

 

   Allura cast a pointed look towards Lance. “From the mouths of babes, Lance.” Her accent made it sound like _Lonce_.

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Lance hissed, leaning back against the counter holding the thick glass bottles, much too thick to be knocked over by a few flimsy balls. He had considered switching the balls with something a bit sturdier, so the kids had a chance. But last time he tried, someone ratted on him and he got in trouble. It was probably Keith.

 

   The rivalry between them didn’t happen because of one single moment. They were both assigned to their respective booths on their first day, and Keith’s was more popular even then. Every time they saw each other in the locker rooms, Keith would greet him with a cocky smile and a quip. After a week, Lance just decided he hated the boy. And so it began.

 

   His friends thought he was being stupid. But there had to be _something_ interesting to come out of this job, or else Lance might just die of boredom. It was a shame Keith sucked so much, too, because he was kind of cute.

 

   Lance finished his shift two hours later, with only a few drifters bothering to come to his booth. Allura left early for a date night with Romelle, and Lance’s other friend, Matt, was off today. He was stuck bumming it with only Keith for a company, although Lance would not consider him company.

 

   The sun was setting as Lance walked into the parking lot. The carnival was far from over, with the lights of the rides spinning too quick for Lance to distinguish what colors were which. He walked back to his car, watching the liveliness of the carnival. Maybe it wasn’t too terrible working here.

 

   Lance’s car was a 1999 model of a Chevy Silverado – a hand-me-down from his oldest brother, Marco, that had been their dad’s, passed down from child to child. It was supposed to be a pretty shade of light blue, but after twenty years of misuse, it left a lot to be desired. Lance named it “Blue” when he was little, and the name stuck.

 

   Usually, Lance loved his truck, but as he turned the key in the engine, he heard the all-too-familiar sound of his truck crapping out on him. He waited a moment, then turned the key again. A hopeful _chug-chug-chug_ , and then…nothing. Lance’s head came down on the top of the steering wheel and he let out a loud, dramatic groan. This happened sometimes, but never when he was stranded at work.

 

   A sharp rapping came from his driver’s side window, gentle and firm. He jerked up to see _Keith_ , his stupid, aggravating smile he reserved just for Lance on his face. He had on this thick, ugly motorcycle jacket because he was just _so effing cool_. Naturally, the only person to witness his failure was the one person he hated. Lance popped open his door, just wanting Keith to get the gloating over and done with.

 

   “Hey,” Keith said stupidly. “I couldn’t help but hear your car from my underground igloo in New Zealand. Need any help?”

 

   “Oh, ha-ha,” Lance responded sarcastically. “What do you know about cars?”

 

  Keith shrugged, propping his elbow up on Lance’s open car door. Lance glared at it until Keith brought it down and shoved his hands in his pockets. “My mom thinks it’s a good idea to know about cars. She teaches me how to fix ‘em and stuff.”

 

   “Lucky me,” Lance grunted.

 

   Keith walked around the front of the truck and patted the hood. “Pop the hood.”

 

   Lance reluctantly did so and stepped out. A puff of smoke wafted into Keith’s face. He waved it away, not even fazed. His eyes did one quick sweep of the interior before looking at Lance.

 

   “What do you usually do when stuff like this happens?” Keith asked.

 

   “Call Triple-A,” Lance muttered.

 

   “Cute,” Keith laughed. Lance’s cheeks heated up. “Well, I don’t have the proper tools to fix this right now, but I could call my friend’s girlfriend. She’s got a pickup truck. I’ll fix your car for free.”

 

   “What’s the catch?” Lance pursed his lips in suspicion.

 

   Keith shrugged, and then – get this – _blushed_. Like he was _embarrassed_. “Dinner with me?”

 

   Lance blinked. “What?”

 

   “I mean,” Keith cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact, “you look hungry. We could get a bite while my friend’s picking up your truck. On me.”

 

   Lance was dumbfounded. Didn’t Keith hate him? Keith should be _roaring_ with laughter right now at Lance’s misfortune. “This sounds like a trick.”

 

   “No carnivals, no games,” Keith responded, putting his hands up.

 

   “What the hell did you just say?” Lance asked, and surprisingly, a laugh bubbled up from his chest.

 

   “Oh, it’s nothing,” Keith said sheepishly. “It’s something Ezor taught me. My friend, Eleanor,” he rushed to explain himself, “we call her Ezor. It’s just something she says a lot.” A pause. Silence. Then, “So, are you down?”

 

   “Down?” Lance remembered then. “Oh, yeah, dinner. Um, you said it’s on you?”

 

   “Of course,” Keith nodded.

 

   “Okay, then.” Lance let himself smile, just a little. “As long as you’re paying.”

 

-

 

   Keith had a motorcycle. Of course. He had a spare helmet for Lance, and Lance was ready to refuse until Keith said, “Well, you aren’t _scared_ , are you?”

 

   So now here he was, gripping Keith’s waist tightly, the wind deafening in his ears, the smell of Keith overwhelming him. Lance could smell mint on the other boy from his shampoo. It was exciting and terrifying and calming, all at once.

 

   Keith had called his friend to tow the truck already, and he promised Lance he wouldn’t take long to fix it. If it wasn’t done by tomorrow morning, he’d give Lance a ride to work. Which Lance was still contemplating, mostly because he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had hated Keith for almost the entire summer, and now suddenly Keith was giving him rides and fixing his truck and buying him dinner? It sounded like the shitty beginning of shitty fan fiction.

 

   They pulled into the parking lot of a very small diner, where the lot was practically empty. The sun had gone down at this point, making the fluorescent lighting of the diner’s welcome sign – _Café Marmora_ – almost blinding. Even with all this, it was still a cute place.

 

   “My, uh, friends work here,” Keith said, pulling off his helmet. His raven hair fell out, messy but flattering. Lance was not so lucky, so he was left patting down his unruly waves.

 

   “Cool,” Lance replied, and that was that. They made their way inside the diner, helmets by their side and smelling of gasoline. It wasn’t an awful smell.

 

   Keith went right to a corner booth like he already knew where he belonged. The whole diner had a very vintage feel to it, with sparkly purple patent-leather seats and a jukebox. It wasn’t hopping, but the laughter from the customers and staff made it sound like a party.

 

   “Not to brag,” Keith said in a way that made Lance think he was going to start bragging, “but this place is pretty legendary. Once you’re here, you’re here for life. It’s almost like a family, you know?”

 

   Lance nodded. He had that same thing with his friends at the carnival. Allura, Romelle, Matt provided something special at work. Even Matt’s sister, Pidge, who didn’t even work there, had a special place in his heart. When he was with them, it felt like a home away from home.

 

   “Oh, brother,” groaned a waitress as she approached their booth. She had choppy purple hair that fell right beneath her sharp jawline, and her almond-shaped eyes had a cool and calculating look to them. Like she was planning a murder. “Kogane’s back. What do we have to do to get you the hell out of here?”

 

   Despite the girl’s sneer, Keith grinned. “Hey, Acxa. When did you get back from your vacation to hell?”

 

   Acxa turned to Lance. “Is he holding you hostage? Blink twice for yes.”

 

   Lance blinked twice, and Acxa’s cold exterior broke with a smile. It lit up her whole face.

 

   “I like this one,” Acxa told Keith. “Is this the lover boy you’ve been harping on about?”

 

   Keith flushed. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Just bring us some Cokes and leave the menus, Acxa.”

 

   Acxa ruffled Keith’s hair and left two menus for the boys to look over. Keith watched her walk away and then rolled his eyes. “Sorry about her. She’s actually a good person, deep down inside.”

 

   “No, I’m not!” Acxa yelled from behind the counter before disappearing into the kitchen.

 

   “No, I like her,” Lance assured Keith. “She’s cute.”

 

   Keith looked down at his menu, his playful expression faltering for a second. “Well, she likes chicks, so…”

 

   “Oh, I mean,” Lance cut in, “yeah, she’s cute. But I was thinking she’d be perfect for my sister, Veronica. They’re both fiery. And Veronica needs to get a life.”

 

   “Don’t be so awful,” Keith said, but his smile returned.

 

   Lance tapped on the menu for a moment, then glanced up to look at Keith. His hair was still pinned back in that stupid, short ponytail, with his thick bangs falling into his eyes. He looked much older than eighteen.

 

   “You should cut your bangs,” Lance noted. “They’re falling into your eyes. Also, it’s ugly.”

 

   “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Acxa snorted as she brought two tall glasses of Cokes to their table. “Do burgers and fries sound good to you?”

 

   “Sounds great,” Keith said, nodding.

 

   “I was talking to your hostage over here,” Acxa quipped, flipping open her notepad. “You know you’re way out of Kogane’s league, right?”

 

   “I’m well aware,” Lance played along. “And burgers sound fantastic. Thanks, Acxa.”

 

   “Ugh, you’re too nice,” Acxa frowned and sashayed away.

 

   They were quiet for a little bit as they sipped their drinks, but it was a comfortable silence. Keith looked at ease here, more than he ever had surrounded by people behind his booth at the carnival. He didn’t feel like he had to compete with this Keith.

 

   “How did you and Acxa meet?” Lance asked. He couldn’t see Keith and Acxa being childhood friends. Acxa looked like the type of kid that kicked sandcastles and fought on the playground.

 

   “Oh, well,” Keith pursed his lips, “that’s a long and complicated story. Try something easier. For now.”

 

   “Hm.” Lance narrowed his eyes. Now he was _dying_ to know, but he switched tracks. “Okay. How did you know I liked Coke?”

 

   “Who doesn’t like Coke?” Keith tried, but his flustered look gave him away. “Okay, you drink it a lot on your breaks. Allura saves you a can.”

 

   Lance cocked his head. “You noticed.” It wasn’t really a question.

 

   “Well, it’s not like you’re so discreet about your staring,” Keith defended. Lance gasped, half-shocked Keith had noticed.

 

   “I do not stare,” Lance hissed playfully.

 

   “Oh, oh right,” Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You don’t stare. You _leer_.”

 

   Lance threw his hands up. “Well, whatever! It’s hard not to, what with you being Mr. Mysterious over here.”

 

   Keith clamped his lips together as if to suppress a smile. “Then we’ll clear the air. Ask away.” He held his hands open, as if to say, _I’m an open book._

 

   Lance had learned his lesson by asking about Acxa. He asked Keith surface level questions, like his favorite place to have ever visited (New Mexico, because as it turns out, Keith is really big into aliens), his favorite animal (hippos? For some dumb reason?), his favorite band (Neutral Milk Hotel), etc. It was strange to put all these facts to Keith. He had just been this bland, hateable person in Lance’s mind for so long. But now this persona Lance had imagined was starting to chip away to someone different. Or maybe he was having layers added. Either way, it felt like Lance was meeting the actor behind a beloved TV character.

 

   Acxa had brought them their food and chimed in from time to time. She was dark and sleek in ways Allura and Romelle were not, but she was every bit as intriguing as them. Lance felt like Acxa and Keith belonged in the nighttime, where there were no such things as venom in words and people whispered their secrets into the dark, where they would disappear and never be heard from again.

 

   “Okay, um…” Lance munched on a fry as he thought of his next question. “Oh! Favorite food?”

 

   Keith hummed. “Anything fast food, I guess. As long as it’s quick.”

 

   Lance laughed in response. “Why?”

 

   A thoughtful look crossed Keith’s face. “I guess…when I was really young, it was just me and my dad, and he didn’t know how to cook, so we got fast food a lot. I don’t know, it just reminds me of him.” He didn’t look or sound sad, but his wording made Lance pause.

 

   “Your dad,” Lance started, treading slowly, “is he…?”

 

   “Dead?” Keith finished, taking a bite of an onion ring. “Yeah. He died when I was eleven.”

 

   Lance was taken aback. He never expected something so dark to have happened to Keith. If he ever thought of Keith’s home life, he kind of envisioned him having this nice life with some nuclear family and picket-fence house. He didn’t really know what to say, but he found himself asking, “Do you miss him?”

 

   Keith chomped down on his burger as he came up with an answer. “Sometimes. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It does suck when something really good happens, and I can’t tell him you know?” He shrugged. “But I have my mom. And my friends.” A pause. Lance waited for him to continue. “Thank you.”

 

   “For what?”

 

   “For not saying that you’re sorry. People do that a lot.”

 

   Lance finished off his burger. “Yeah. Thanks for being so candid.”

 

   Keith wiped his mouth. “That’s me. Candid Keith.” He winked jokingly.

 

   The stars were twinkling in full swing by the time Keith and Lance finished their food. True to his word, Keith paid. Acxa actually seemed a little bummed to see them go, but Lance promised to come back (with Veronica, so he could play matchmaker, but the girls didn’t need to know that). And Keith promised to introduce him to his other friends that worked at the diner. And that was that.

 

   Riding through the pitch black of night was exhilarating. There were rarely any cars passing by them as Keith drove them to Lance’s house. The trees whipped past them, the moon full and bright as if it was watching over them. Something about the quietness of the night made Lance hold Keith a little tighter, but he would totally deny it if Keith asked.

 

   It made him feel badass to ride up to his house late at night on the back of the motorcycle. Even it was Keith’s. He hopped off the bike and gave Keith his helmet back, but didn’t make any moves to go into his house.

 

   “So,” Keith started, pulling off his helmet, “your car. Do you mind if I have your number? You know, so I could text you about the car.” He had a shit-eating grin on his face, which Lance didn’t trust. But what wasn’t there to trust? Keith had bought him dinner, they talked about their feelings, and Keith was going to fix up his car for free.

 

   “Sure,” Lance said, much to his own surprise. As he tapped his digits into Keith’s phone, he continued, “Maybe tomorrow I could watch you fix it. So I know what to do next time.”

 

   Keith took his phone back. “Sounds like a date.”

 

   Lance looked at Keith. The other boy had his bottom lip caught in between his teeth as if waiting for Lance to say something. But Lance couldn’t stop staring. Maybe Keith wasn’t so goddamn awful. Had Lance really misjudged him the entire time?

 

   “Well, I should get going.” Keith tore his eyes away from Lance, and Lance felt his cheeks heat up. How long had he been staring? “My mom’s probably wondering where I am. She doesn’t like me out with boys for too long or else she’ll start to think I’m whoring myself out.” A sarcastic eye roll. “Mothers, right?”

 

   Lance laughed, but it was distracted. “Are you gay?”

 

   Keith cocked his head as the question fell flat and awkward. Lance didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. He mentally kicked himself in the face for being so weird about things. He hurried to fix the problem. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I like guys. I like girls, too. I’m very cool that way.” He laughed. It was awkward.

 

   “Mm-hmm,” Keith pursed his lips. Then smiled. “Yes, I’m gay. I just wanted to see you sweat.”

 

   “Uh-huh,” Lance said, mouth unable to close. There was something about Keith admitting that he was gay, like an added level to their back-and-forth. It made Lance’s skin prickle, but not in a bad way.

 

   “Well, this was fun,” Keith said. “Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow for work?”

 

   _No_ , Lance said to himself. _If you do that, people will know that we know each other. That we know each other well enough to come into work together. I want this to be ours…for now._

 

   “That’s all right,” Lance shrugged it off. “Allura can do that since we…you know. But tomorrow night. You can…pick me up…then.”

 

   Keith looked at Lance, up and down, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “Okay. See you tomorrow, lover boy.”

 

   Lance watched as Keith popped on his helmet and revved his engine, probably waking up half the neighborhood. He rode off into the night, his taillights disappearing around the corner. Lance imagined what it would have been like if Keith had kissed him before he left. Then he smacked himself, because _why on God’s great earth would he want Keith Kogane to kiss him???_

   But despite his aversion, his lips still tingled with the thought.

 

-

 

   “And then he drove off!” Lance exclaimed, slumping into the backseat of Allura’s car. Romelle had taken shotgun, because girlfriend privileges, so he was stuck with Matt in the back. “Like James Dean. God, it was so attractive.”

 

   “Wait, go back,” Matt said, holding up a hand. “Two days ago, you were willing to throw him into a shark tank. Now you’re planning the wedding?”

 

   “What’s with the extremes?” Lance asked incredulously.

 

   “You are the definition of extreme, Lance,” Allura laughed. “And Matt isn’t so far off. You’ve hated Keith all summer.”

 

   “That’s before I knew how good he was,” Lance sighed, looking out the window.

 

   “We knew that,” Romelle said as she applied some lip-gloss. Lance sat up.

 

   “What do you mean, ‘we knew’?” Lance scoffed.

 

   “We’ve been trying to tell you,” Matt replied. “Keith’s pretty cool. But you didn’t want to hear it.”

 

   “So, this whole time,” Lance said, “you all knew how cool he was? Oh, my God, by now we could’ve been dating! How could you guys?”

 

   “Oh, yes,” Allura deadpanned, talking the turn into the staff parking lot. “Yes, this was indeed all of our faults.”

 

   Lance tried to be cool about it, but the closer they got to the carnival, the more nervous he felt. How much would last night change his relationship with Keith? Were they supposed to pretend it never happened? Because it did. And Lance didn’t know how to feel about it. What if Keith wanted a relationship? Or worse, what if he _didn’t_?

 

   “You look a little nervous, my friend,” Matt chirped as they walked through the staff entrance to their locker rooms. “I thought you were supposed to be confident about this stuff.”

 

   “I am!” Lance blurted, eager to prove his skill. “But I’ve been out of the game for so long. You wouldn’t get it.” Matt had been dating someone he met through the internet on some virtual medieval role-playing game. Their name was Seven, and Matt gushed about them whenever he got the chance. He would probably mention them now.

 

   “Yeah,” Matt sighed, his eyes already going soft, “Seven’s great.”

 

   Lance bit his cheek to keep from smiling. “You’re useless.”

 

   Keith wasn’t in the locker room as they got dressed for work, but he was at his booth, looking extremely bored before seeing Lance. His face lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and Lance’s stomach fluttered. Matt snapped to look at Lance, his face conveying the obvious – _HE LIKES YOU! AND WE CAN ALL TELL!_ It was a little annoying.

 

   The carnival had only opened an hour ago, so people were still enjoying the rides before winding down to play the games. Lance ignored the mocking looks from his friends as he approached Keith’s booth, which was empty for now.

 

   He wasn’t wearing his hair back, for once. It kind of all fell around his face, flaring out around his neck, like a… _oh, my God, like a mullet_. What was even worse was how Keith rocked it, even in their stupid uniform. None of it should ever look good on a person, but naturally, Keith could pull it off. It was one of the more infuriating traits Lance found in Keith.

 

   “Hey, stranger,” Keith greeted, and Lance let out a breath he didn’t realize he was even holding. So, they were doing this thing. In public. Lance was unsure whether or not that was a good thing. But Keith’s wide smile made his eyes crinkle on the sides, and so he decided it was good. It was _very_ good.

 

   “When’s your lunch break?” Lance asked nonchalantly as if he didn’t know every second of Keith’s schedule. Having a rival and having a crush seemed to have a wafer-thin line between them.

 

   Keith checked his watch. “I take it at one. Is this you asking for a preface for our date tonight?”

 

   Lance shifted on his feet. “Of course not. Just checking with you. And it is _not_ a date.”

 

   Keith nodded, feigning resign. “Oh, of course. So, I _won’t_ be seeing you for lunch, then?”

 

   “Maybe,” Lance shrugged, then walked triumphantly back to his booth. Even with him and Keith on the same side, he could win. Allura, Romelle, and Matt waved goodbye, pretending to fawn and swoon over him as they did so, most likely making fun of him for his exchange with Keith. He flipped them the finger.

 

   Lance had never really experienced sexual tension before, or maybe he never realized it, but he assumed it felt like being around Keith. The staring, the catching of the staring, the sly smiles that followed the catching. It was like this really sexual game of cat and mouse. Or Lance was just being a horny eighteen-year-old. Both were extremely plausible.

 

   His lunch break could not come sooner. Matt, who was on rotation for the day, took over his booth and gave him the thumbs-up when he walked off with Keith. The unsubtly made Lance’s teeth grind, but Matt had good intentions. Even if he was an idiot.

 

   “Okay,” Lance said as they settled into the staff lounge, where most of the staff had their lunch. Because it was a little later in the afternoon for lunch, he and Keith were the only ones there. Lance took a bite of a fry before continuing, “Now that we’ve leveled up in our friendship, I came up with more questions. And I’m not pussyfooting around anymore, Mullet.”

 

   “Fighting words,” Keith commented as he took a sip of his Diet Coke. “Do go on.”

 

   “All right,” Lance pretended to shuffle imaginary papers in front of him, prompting a chuckle from Keith. “Number one; how did you get that scar?”

 

   Keith gingerly touched the scar to his face, deep in thought, and Lance worried that he had struck a nerve. But then Keith’s mouth quirked upwards and suppressed a laugh. “Oh, man. I think I was about…maybe…five? My mom had just come home on military leave, and she liked to keep everything fresh. She was always training.

 

   “And so, one time,” Keith paused to laugh, then covered it up, “one time, she’s practicing these knife tricks, right? And I decided I wanted to be just like her, so I went to the kitchen…”

 

   “Oh, you did not,” Lance gasped.

 

   “Oh, yes!” Keith burst out laughing. “My parents were _freaking_ out. I just remember there being a lot of blood, and then a lot of stitches. Oh, my God, my parents were so pissed.”

 

   “A badass since day one,” Lance noted. “Admirable.”

 

   “You know,” Keith continued, “usually I just tell people I got it in a knife fight.”

 

   Lance’s eyes widened a little. “So…I’m not most people, then, huh?”

 

   “No,” Keith uttered. “No, you are not.”

 

   As they wrapped up their lunch, Keith asked, “How’s about you and me ditch and leave early? I feel like we deserve it. Plus, we can still grab dinner before midnight.”

 

   Lance laughed. “Count me in.”

 

-

 

   Keith surprised him, once again, as they pulled up in front of his house. It wasn’t too far from the carnival, but the heavy woods surrounding it made it feel like they were in the middle of nowhere. They had left at four, asking Allura, Matt, and Romelle to cover for them. Of course, the trio agreed. As long as Lance promised to “seal the deal” tonight. Lance would do no such thing, but he’d say anything to get off work early.

 

   “What do you think?” Keith asked after they roared into his driveway. There was another car there, a nice-looking white Lexus that Lance thought would’ve been too classy for Keith’s taste. It must have been his mother’s, then.

 

   Lance took it all in. The house had at least two floors and a garage that was separate from the entire house. There were a lot of windows. There were still Christmas lights strung up around the roof. It looked incredibly cozy like he could just walk in and there would be rich mahogany floors and tall shelves full of books and the smell of freshly baked cookies in the air. It looked like whoever lived here was well-loved.

 

   “It’s a home,” Lance finally said. Then he slapped himself in the face. _Actually_. “I mean, it’s gorgeous. But I mean…it feels like a home.”

 

   “Now I’m curious,” Keith mused, leaning against his bike.

 

   “Well,” Lance struggled to find the words, “I’ve always heard about home being where the heart is. And I love my family, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never felt…like it was a home. We could’ve moved anywhere and it would’ve felt all the same to me. But this? This feels…irreplaceable.” He took a breath. “Am I making sense?”

 

   Keith’s smile said it all. “You are. My mom has tried hard to make this place feel like home.” A shadow fell over Keith’s face. “My mom and I…went through a tough time when my dad died.”

 

   “I can imagine,” Lance said. He had never seen Keith this vulnerable. The expression on his face looked like one Keith knew well like the pain was second nature.

 

   “My mom’s made up for all of it now,” Keith assured, and the storm cleared. “It is home. And I’m grateful it’s mine.” Pause. A small sigh. Then, “Let’s go inside. I’ve gotta change first before we start on your car. And you might wanna change, too.”

 

   Lance looked down. He had changed out of his uniform and was wearing jean shorts and a nice Rolling Stones tee, the sleeves rolled up and everything. He thought it complimented his body well. “Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?”

 

   “You look cute,” Keith affirmed, “no doubt. But you might not want to get grease all over your shirt.”

 

   Lance smiled. “Touché. Lead the way, Mullet.”

 

   Keith laughed as they walked up to his house, running a hand through his hair. “Is it that bad?”

 

   “No,” Lance said, in the same tone Keith had used before, “it’s cute. No doubt.”

 

   Keith playfully shoved him back with one hand as he unlocked the door with the other. Keith called as they walked in, “Mom!”

 

   “Keith,” a feminine voice rang out from somewhere to their left, where the main hallway turned into a big, well-lit room. “In the kitchen.”

 

   Lance looked at the walls, covered in pictures of a chubby blacked-hair baby in various locations, either in the arms of a tall man that had Keith’s easy smile, or a muscular woman with Keith’s bone structure. It was mostly the man, though. Lance got out his phone to snap a picture of baby Keith in the bathtub, looking mad with a dollop of suds on his head.

 

   “Hey,” Keith hissed, swiping for Lance’s phone, “no flash photography!”

 

   “ _C’mon_ ,” Lance moaned, holding the phone out of Keith’s grasp. “You even had a mullet as a baby! That is just too adorable not to be used as blackmail.”

 

   Keith groaned and trudged into the kitchen, Lance skipping in happily behind him. The kitchen was very big, full of yellow cabinets and big sliding glass doors. There was a TV playing on some cooking show, and the woman in the pictures with Keith’s bone structure was standing by the big island, whisking eggs in a glass bowl. She paused the show and met Keith with an almost timid smile. Almost like Keith was a guest who had been staying in her home for a while. Or maybe she was the guest.

 

   “Keith,” she remarked, “who’s your friend?”

 

   “Oh, mom,” Keith looked to Lance, “this is my friend, Lance. You know, the one that works with me.”

 

   “Oh, yes!” Keith’s mom blinked, her smile becoming friendlier. She spoke plainly and matter-of-factly, just like Keith. “Keith has talked a lot about you. I’m Krolia – it’s nice to put a face to the name.”

 

   _Krolia_ was five-foot-ten and had arms that looked like she could crush Lance, and yet, she was still so skittish. Lance wondered if it had to do with being in the military, or Keith’s dad dying, or maybe both.

 

   “Please don’t,” Keith muttered, his hands coming up to hide his face.

 

   “He’s so easily embarrassed,” Krolia said. She gestured to a heaping plate of brownies that were on the counter, the smell heavenly. “Take a few, Lance. I’m making them for the attendings’ meeting tomorrow.”

 

   Lance took one as politely as possible when in actuality he wanted to shovel it down his throat. Brownies were significantly up there on his list of weaknesses. And, dear _God_ , these brownies were cosmic. Lance was positive his soul left his body in that split second the decadent chocolate touched his tongue.

 

   “Oh, wow,” Lance mumbled around a mouthful of brownie. “These are _delicious_.”

 

   Krolia laughed, her smile crinkling at her eyes just like Keith. “Thank you, Lance. It’s my first day as chief of surgery tomorrow, I just want to get off on a good foot.”

 

   “Congratulations,” Lance beamed, finally swallowing the brownie. “If these are any indication of your skill as a chief, I think you’re gonna rock the house.”

 

   “I should have you around more often,” Krolia joked, turning back to the eggs she was whisking. She seemed more comfortable than when the pair first walked into the kitchen. Keith took her whisking as a cue to leave, and Lance followed.

 

   “It was nice meeting you, ma’am,” Lance said because his mother raised him to have manners.

 

   “Please,” Krolia insisted, “call me Krolia.”

 

   Keith led him past the front door, to the right of the hallway, and up a long, carpeted staircase. “You know,” he started as they walked up the stairs, “she’s rarely ever so warm with other people.”

 

   “It’s my Cuban charm,” Lance winked, and Keith rolled his eyes. They made it to the top, all the way at the end of the hallway, where Keith’s room presumably was. The notion that Lance was going into Keith Kogane’s bedroom finally settled in. He felt like he had been transported to an alternate universe.

 

   “So,” Keith cleared his throat, holding open the door to Keith’s room, “this is…my…room.” The words seemed hard to get out. Was he as nervous as Lance was?

 

    Keith’s room was extremely tidy, a stark contrast to Lance’s own landfill of a room. Half of his belongings were in plastic bins with different colored post-its on them, labeled _College, Donate, Storage_ , respectively. There were also open suitcases with winter clothes packed in them since Keith clearly didn’t need them in this sweltering heat. There were a couple of band posters covering the walls and a red lava lamp on the desk by his bed. What surprised Lance the most, though, were the two chunky cats dozing on Keith’s bed, one an orange tabby and the other pitch-black.

 

   “You…have cats.”

 

   Keith snorted. “I have cats. Wanna guess their names?”

 

   Lance raised an eyebrow. “Tabitha and…Fluffy?”

 

   “No, please, I have class.” A smile. “Red and Black. I’ll let you decide which is which.”

 

   “Wow,” Lance widened his eyes and stifled a smile. “That is very creative.”

 

   “Shut up!” Keith wandered over to his dresser and pulled open the second drawer. “I was, like, twelve when I named them. They actually belonged to my friend, Shiro’s, but he gave them to me when he went off to college. He didn’t trust his parents to take care of them.”

 

   He tossed a grey t-shirt to Lance, who caught it on his chest. Keith took out a red muscle tank for himself, and before Lance knew it, he was staring at Keith’s back.

 

   Lance had seen Keith’s back many a time. It had curves and dips and strong muscles, but now it was different. Now, he was staring at with interest. There was something charged in the air like Keith knew what he was doing. Lance distracted himself by changing his own shirt, trying to bring moisture back into his mouth. He was not succeeding.

 

   Keith turned back around. “Ready to get down and dirty?”

 

   Lance laughed to cover up the fact that he couldn’t speak without blurting something he would probably definitely regret.

 

   They left out the backdoor downstairs to the garage, so Keith didn’t have to see his mom again. Keith had said his mom had made up for whatever rough patch they got stuck in when he was eleven, but Lance got the feeling things were still raw. Healing, but fresh and delicate.

 

   “Your mom’s pretty cool,” Lance said as innocently as possible, hoping to gauge a reaction. Sometimes Keith could be hard to read.

 

   “Sure,” Keith shrugged, as neutral as could be, “pretty much everyone thinks that of other people’s moms.”

 

   Lance dropped it, for the moment, as Keith pulled open the garage door. Lance’s garbage heap for a truck was standing there, looking pretty forlorn for an unanimated object. The garage was filled with different tools and racks of metal objects Lance was unfamiliar with. There was even a radio in the corner, like a real silver little doo-dad that Lance only really saw in movies or in the cringey throwback photos of his parents.

 

   “Nice setup,” Lance remarked. “All my dad’s ever taught me was how to change a flat tire. I’m not all that great at it.”

 

   “Shame,” Keith said, propping open the hood of the car on a stick, “you’ve got nimble fingers. You’d be helpful.”

 

   “Would I?” Lance grinned, leaning against the wall that faced Keith’s profile.

 

   Keith ignored his teasing and launched into fixing up the truck. “You’ve got a blown gasket. It’s really not too hard to fix.”

 

   Lance narrowed his eyes. “And you’ve done this before?”

 

   “Are you getting cold feet?” Keith chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. It sent a small shiver up Lance’s back. He took a step closer to Lance. The day was hot and the small garage did nothing to help that, so both boys already had perspiration forming on their skin. Lance tracked a bead of sweat as it made its way from Keith’s temple to his sharp jawline.

 

   “No,” Lance insisted, trying to make Keith get back to work and stop sucking the air from Lance’s lungs, “I trust you. Go on.”

 

   Keith, thankfully, moved back and started working on the truck with a smirk on his face. He tried to teach Lance by telling him each step, bless his heart, but Lance was having a hard time following along. He knew people that loved cars were supposed to know everything about them, in and out, but Lance just wasn’t like that. He liked cars for the _rush_. The windows down, the harsh wind in his face, the blur of trees and people and buildings as he sped past them.

 

   It was easier to stare at Keith and hear the lull of his voice rather than retain the words he was saying. Lance didn’t like admitting he was wrong, ever, but now he could see Keith’s appeal. He had a certain charm about him. Maybe he wasn’t a _total_ drag who didn’t deserve to work at the Whack-a-Mole booth.

 

   “There,” Keith said, the sun having drooped down in the sky during their time fixing the car. “Let’s give her a spin.”

 

   Lance glanced at it. Blue hadn’t changed at all since her gasket was fixed up, so it was just a matter of sound. Keith climbed into the passenger seat as Lance jumped behind the wheel, ready to her Blue come back to life. He clicked his keys into the ignition and she sputtered. Lance looked forlornly to Keith, who was undeterred.

 

   “Try again,” Keith ushered.

 

   Lance twisted the keys. A long purr, and then…Blue roared to life. A smile broke out on Lance’s face, overjoyed that his truck wasn’t totally dunzo. He turned to Keith and before he knew it, he was hugging the other boy.

 

   “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ,” Lance laughed in Keith’s ear. He felt Keith tentatively wrap his arms around Lance’s back. Lance leaned back to look at him, but their embrace only loosened.

 

    “Y-yeah,” Keith stuttered, cheeks flushed, “sure. Of course.”

 

   “No, really,” Lance pressed on, “thank you. This would’ve cost me a fortune. Mama would’ve killed me. I could seriously kiss you right now.”

 

   _Shit!_ Lance froze, as did Keith. The other boy’s dark eyes were wide (no, not just dark, indigo, as mysterious and enchanting as the night sky), no doubt totally freaked out. What Lance couldn’t decipher was whether or not it was _gay_ panic or just _panic_ panic.

 

   “No homo,” Lance joked, because that would _totally_ help to diffuse the situation. And then he finger-gunned because he was an awkward bisexual mess.

 

   Keith laughed it off anyway (because he just _gets_ Lance, which is so refreshing) and they moved back to the far end of their seats. Lance briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss Keith (his lips were a little chapped, and he seemed to have a resting frown, but it suited his face), but imagining was fruitless. If Keith had _wanted_ to kiss him, he would’ve when their lips were a hair’s breadth apart.

 

    “You must be starving,” Lance coughed, moving to grip the steering wheel. “We can go back to Marmora. My treat.”

 

   “You’re only using me to see Acxa,” Keith teased, but he clipped in the seatbelt, so Lance kept it moving. A glance in the rearview alerted him that the garage door was still open as they made their way down the driveway.

 

   “Did you wanna close the door?” Lance asked, gesturing with his head behind them.

 

   Keith waved it off. “My mom will do it.”

 

   Lance pursed his lips. He wanted to ask what Keith’s deal was with Krolia. Why they skirted around each other like they were guests in the other’s home. But he didn’t want to impose on their relationship, because it wasn’t his place. He still flicked a look to Keith, trying to elicit an elaboration from his side.

 

   But it didn’t work, so they talked about menial things on the drive to the diner. Keith became more and more intriguing the more Lance got to know him. He wanted to know everything possible about Keith. Even if they were going off to college and probably would never see each other again. Lance had not asked about Keith’s college, mostly because he knew he was tuckered out from answering college questions, but also because he was nervous. Nervous Keith would be miles away, nervous it would bring to light the finality of their…whatever-ship. Nervous Keith would be excited to leave.

 

   “Hunk’s working a shift today,” Keith admitted as they pulled into the parking lot. Keith had filled Lance in on Hunk yesterday, as well as his other friends Ezor and Zethrid, who was the girl with the pickup truck. Hunk was another friend of Keith’s who was a waiter, and an aspiring chef. He was going to a prestigious culinary school in New York. “I think really you’d like him, sometimes you remind me of him.”

 

   “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” Lance said when they parked. He shared a small smile with Keith.

 

   Even in the day, Marmora Café wasn’t exactly hopping. Acxa was lazily wiping down tables that didn’t need wiping down, most likely her way of avoiding waitressing. She did perk up a little when the bell on the door jingled, signaling Lance and Keith’s entrance. Her choppy purple hair was in several clips, giving her a spiky 90s-reminiscent ‘do. Something Veronica would find adorable, Lance noted.

 

   “Hey, Lance,” Acxa said, approaching them. “How’s it hanging?”

 

   “Hi, Acxa,” Keith greeted. Acxa ignored him.

 

   “Reserved your favorite table,” she continued, grabbing two menus and guiding them to the same table they sat at the night before. “Let me know if you need _anything_ , Lance.” She pinched his cheek, hard but lovingly.

 

   “Can we get Hunk instead of you?” Keith pleaded. Acxa stuck out a pierced tongue at him.

 

   “You’re no fun,” she hissed as she walked away. She went right to a tall boy, who was large and muscular in a way Lance could never be. Despite his size, he had a very kind face, with gentle eyes and a soft smile as he spoke to Acxa. How someone like Hunk, who looked like the human embodiment of sunshine, became friends with the Baron and Baroness of Darkness was beyond him.

 

   “Look, it’s Gay Keith,” Hunk laughed as he approached them. “And a friend!”

 

   Keith looked to Lance. “He’s not homophobic. He’s just very invested in my sexuality.” He turned back to Hunk. “This is Lance. We work together.”

 

   “Lance,” Hunk repeated, trying it on for size. He smiled at Lance. “It suits you.”

 

   Lance decidedly liked Hunk.

 

-

 

   They had their dinner. They laughed. They inched closer across the table until Lance could see what a gorgeous color Keith’s eyes were. And then Lance had to go home, so he dropped Keith off, and Lance realized that Keith was much too charming for his own good.

 

   Not that it was Keith’s fault. Anyone with eyes could see that the way Keith carried himself showed he thought he had a sex appeal equivalent to a baby hippo. But Lance thought he was _mesmerizing_. It was all these small things – the way his fingers would fidget as he talked, like he wanted to express himself but didn’t quite know how, or how his hair would fall from his ponytail and wisp around his face and tickle his cheeks. And Keith _listened_. With head nods and affirmative noises in the back of his throat and wide eyes. The whole nine.

 

   Lance pulled into his own driveway, engine cutting out as he pulled out his keys. He sat in the warm dark for a moment, the humming of insects all around him. He could see his living room light was on, as were a few bedroom lights – everyone was probably off doing their own thing. He could sneak in, possibly. His sister Veronica does it all the time.

 

    His back door was unlocked, per usual, so he slunk into the dim kitchen and closed the door softly. He could hear the drone of _Caso Cerrado_ playing from the TV in the living room, most likely where his mama was ironing, and the creaking of the floorboards upstairs, where the rooms where. Nothing in the kitchen.

 

   He managed to slink through the dim hallways and past his parents in the living room, creaking his way upstairs. Veronica was in her room practicing a dance routine (she was a year younger and was rigorously training to get accepted into Julliard. She would get in, of course), and Rachel was taking a shower. Probably stealing all the hot water, too, knowing her.

 

   Lance shut his bedroom door behind him without disruption and let out a sigh of relief. It was a challenge not rousing at least one member of his overly extensive family. Not that he wasn’t out to his family, but sometimes they cared too much.

 

   A pang of shame spiked up his stomach. He thought about Keith and Krolia, who had a rocky relationship and were strangers living in this grandiose house together. Krolia didn’t seem like a neglectful parent in the slightest. _Or maybe I’m just being stupid_ , he thought as he pulled off his pants and flopped onto his bed. Suddenly he was the world’s leading expert on all things Keith Kogane? After just a few days?

 

   Lance laughed to himself. It wasn’t like anything was going to come out of it, anyway, now that Blue was fixed. Although he hoped Keith would prove him wrong.

 

-

 

   It seemed Keith was only keen to prove Lance wrong it benefited him. They went three days at work without hanging outside of it. It was all so…anticlimactic. Lance thrived on the drama and tragedy of a heartbreak. And they were still friendly, still bantered during breaks, still stole glances at each other from across their booths and in the locker rooms. But there was not more brushing of skin, no more almost-kisses. And no more prospective dates. Lance was _starving_.

 

   “What is your deal with him?” Pidge asked as she aimed to throw a plastic ball at the thick bottles stacked behind Lance. She had decided to pop in – well, no, she had not decided. She had spent the better part of summer building a robot that could function well enough to take out the garbage, and her mom finally had enough of Pidge being a hermit, so she accompanied Matt to work before her mom dragged her to a soul cycle class or something as sweat-inducing.

 

   “Who?” Lance said, even as he stared at Keith. Keith caught him looking and waved the paw of the stuffed red lion prize he was holding. Lance giggled in return, and a plastic ball hit him in the back of the head. He glared at Pidge.

 

   “Matt says you’re in love with him,” Pidge smiled, as big as Cheshire Cat. She was the same grade as Lance, but younger by two years. Sometimes she was so smart it was easy to forget she was younger. Not when she was teasing Lance, though.

 

   “Matt doesn’t know his ass from his head,” Lance grumbled. Pidge threw another ball, which bounced off the bottles and hit Lance, again. “Can you stop doing that?”

 

   “Ask him out,” Pidge said. “Then I’ll cut it out.”

 

   Lance harrumphed and let Pidge continue to pelt him with balls. “You’re not getting any prizes by doing this, Katie.”

 

   “No one gets prizes from this,” Pidge snorted. “It’s rigged.”

 

   “Everything’s rigged,” Lance sighed, slumping against the banister holding up the awning of the booth. “I mean, life is so cruel. What if Keith is my soulmate, but I’ll never know because we just talked a couple of times and left to college? And then, fifty years later, when we’re married with kids and grandkids, I’ll see him from across the supermarket and I’ll think, ‘Hey, I know him,’ but then I won’t say anything and I’ll always wonder if I had, would something have happened? And then I get dementia, and he visits me in the nursing home and tells me he wrote to me every day?”

 

   “I’m going to stop you right there,” Pidge cut in, “only for the sole fact that you’re making me sick.” She leaned over the counter and cocked her head. Her large circular glasses were so thick they made her eyes very owlish. “Do you know how you can avoid this?”

 

   “Ask him out?” Lance suggested, at the same time Pidge said, “Ask him out.”

 

   Lance groaned. “But the ball’s in his court!”

 

   “I know next to nothing about relationships,” Pidge said, “but I know enough to tell you confidently, this is the most high school bullshit I’ve ever witnessed. Are you aware that we’re adults now?”

 

   “I’m the adult,” Lance pointed out.

 

   “I’m at least thirty-five mentally.”

 

   Lance stood quiet. He knew Pidge was right – Pidge was always right – and he didn’t like it. He hadn’t been in an actual relationship since junior year, where he got dumped by Ryan Kinkade after the homecoming game where Lance had tripped up the cheerleading routine and landed on his foot funny. That was not the reason Ryan had broken up with him, Ryan assured through Lance’s tears, but Lance always wondered. And then he had seen Nyma Dacoit on-and-off during senior year. That also did not end well.

 

   Keith was something new and different for Lance, and with Lance’s track record, it was bound to end in flames. Lance looked to Pidge forlornly, hoping to find the answers in her big hazel eyes. There was nothing but indifference there.

 

   “Allura is a lot more helpful than you,” Lance pouted, even though it wasn’t true.

 

   “Sure she is,” Pidge laughed and reared her arm back for another toss.

 

   Lance knew Pidge was right, but he still couldn’t work up the courage to ask Keith out again. They were leaving for college in less than a week. Lance dreamed that there would be some misunderstanding or miracle and Keith ended up going to the same college as Lance. But that was unlikely – Lance was heading off to Arizona, and Keith didn’t seem like the kind of guy to leave too far from home. Although Keith was full of surprises.

 

   Lance left work with Allura, Romelle, Matt, Pidge, and even Keith. He had grown closer with Allura the past couple of days, although apparently, they had always been friendly. Lance tried not to feel betrayed by that. Usually, if their shifts ended together, they would go out to eat, but Lance had been pushing off packing up his room and his mama was getting increasingly more anxious about it.

 

   “We’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Romelle asked as Lance unlocked his car.

 

   “Bright and early,” Lance nodded. He glanced at Keith, who was staring at him. They both looked away. Lance’s chest panged with a sharp feeling that settled into his stomach.

 

   “See ya,” Matt saluted him and pushed Pidge towards Allura’s car. Pidge looked at him pointedly before Lance turned away from her and hopped into his own car. He was not a fan of all this silent conversation.

 

   Blue purred to life and Lance shifted in his seat. Keith had fixed his car, so Lance took him to dinner, which meant that now it was Keith’s move if he wanted a relationship out of this. Lance caught Keith’s eye again from through the windshield and smiled, a silent _thank you_ , or at least he hoped that’s how Keith saw it. Keith smiled back. And that was that.

 

   Allura took off out of the parking lot, then Keith. Lance stood parked, his engine running and wasting gas and his battery, but he didn’t care. His mind was everywhere at the moment. He started to move the truck, not even thinking as he pulled the gear into reverse and a jolt from the back of the truck shook him from his thoughts. He immediately turned off the car, mouth gaping open at his own stupidity.

 

   Lance got out of the car and saw that he hit the lamppost behind his truck, and cursed at the dent it left on the side of his trunk. The lamppost was unscathed, of course. Lance let out the longest groan of his life. His parents were going to _murder_ him.

 

   _Or maybe not_ , he thought as his eyes wandered to where Keith had parked his motorcycle. Before he knew it, he was back in his truck and driving to Keith’s house. He had only driven by motorcycle once before, but it was fairly close to work and he knew the general area. He kept trying to talk himself out of showing up on Keith’s doorstep, but this was the only option he could think of. And it was _not_ because Keith looked especially delectable today.

 

   After a couple of wrong turns and stalling, Lance pulled into the long driveway to Keith’s house, where the sunset illuminated the trees and put everything into a golden haze. A beautiful house for a beautiful boy.

 

   Krolia’s Lexus wasn’t in the driveway, but Keith was in his garage with his bike. He must have just pulled in and was already cleaning off his dirt that had accumulated over the past week. Keith told Lance that he liked to clean his motorcycle once a week. Lance had caught him with his shirt already off. Did he ever have his shirt on around his house? Lance didn’t care, it was undeniably sexy. He hated Keith for his hotness, although not really.

 

   Keith had turned around at the sound of Lance’s car door closing. He was surprised, only for a moment, before a smile broke out on his face. It turned Lance’s legs to jelly.

 

   “So,” Lance said, clearing his throat, “I had a bit of an accident.”

 

   Keith bit his lip to keep his smile from spreading as he pulled his long-sleeve over his bare chest. Lance tried not to be disappointed. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

 

   “Hardy har har,” Lance teased as he approached Keith, hands in his pockets. It had started to cool down over the past couple of days, so Lance snuggled into his jean jacket as the evening chill swept over him. “You don’t mind fixing it do you?”

 

   Keith came closer to Lance, his eye-line meeting Lance’s nose. He was only the slightest bit shorter than Lance, which was incredibly endearing. “I’ll take a look.”

 

   They made their way around Blue, and Keith let out a sigh at the sight of the dent. Then, he let out a laugh. It bubbled up his throat and Keith clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Lance pushed him, but laughed, too.

 

   “We left you alone for, like, a minute,” Keith said. “And this happened. How is this truck not totally wrecked at this point?” He started to make his way towards the house, and Lance followed.

 

   “Don’t judge me!” Lance pouted as they walked into the house and towards the kitchen. “I came to you in confidence. This is supposed to be a safe zone.”

 

   “For you?” Keith raised his eyebrows. “Always.”

 

   Lance kept a smile on his face as he quipped back, “Are you flirting with me, Kogane?”

 

   Keith grabbed a kettle from the stovetop and ran it under the tap. “Have been for the past three months.”

 

   Lance froze, staying silent as the kettle filled up. His brain was buffering as he tried to figure out what exactly Keith had just said. He could’ve said something very suave and flirty, but instead, he said, “Uh…are you making tea?”

 

   Keith blinked at him. “No. I’ll show you when it finishes boiling.” He put the kettle on the stovetop and clicked a notch, flaring up the bottom of the kettle.

 

   _Oh, fuck_ , Lance groaned to himself. _We have to sit until it boils. I have to say something. I have to ask about the flirting._

 

   “Are you gonna ask me something?” Keith prompted. He wanted Lance to say he’d been flirting back. Lance couldn’t find the courage.

 

   “Yes,” Lance said shortly. He had to think of something else, anything else. “How do you and Acxa know each other?” _Not that, pendejo!_ “That’s…I…oh. Not that.”

 

   “No, we’ve got time.” Keith hopped up onto his countertop, and Lance leaned against the island. There were a few feet of distance between them. Lance didn’t like it. “Uh…well, when my dad died, my mom couldn’t really take care of me, so I went into the foster system for a couple of years. Acxa was my foster sister. So were Ezor and Zethrid. We stood with Hunk’s family for a spell, and then I went with Shiro’s family. The guy with the cats,” Keith explained. Lance stood quiet, dumbstruck, as he continued. “And then my mom got better. Got a job and a house. I just moved back two years ago.”

 

   It was Lance’s turn to blink up at Keith. “Oh…”

 

   “My turn,” Keith jumped down from the countertop. Their game meant they could both ask questions, but Keith had only ever been surface-level with him. Now Lance was nervous. “Do you like me?”

 

   Lance laughed nervously, “You don’t waste time, do you?”

 

   “No,” Keith said. “Not when I feel like this about someone. And I’ve never felt this way about someone.”

 

   “So, I’m setting a precedent.” _Quit stalling, you idiot!_ “Okay. Yes. I like you a lot. Are we gonna talk about this foster home thing? Do we need to?”

 

   “No,” Keith repeated. “I’m not scarred. It needed to happen. Are you ever going to ask me out again?”

 

   Lance faltered. “I like you.”

 

   “Do you have commitment issues?” Keith prompted. “Because that’s okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you like the type, though.”

 

   “No!” Lance said. “No, I don’t…I _like_ you, Keith. I’m just afraid…of losing you.”

 

   Keith didn’t speak. The kettle was still bubbling on the stove as Lance’s words sank in. “I don’t mean to be rude,” Keith started, carefully choosing his words, “but that’s stupid.”

 

   Lance looked down at his feet, kicking at the tiled floor. He was more embarrassed than affronted by Keith.

 

   “I’ve lost people,” Keith said. “And I just feel like I’ll lose you if we split off to college with only a friendship between us. Does that sound fairer?”

 

   “Yeah,” Lance rasped. He cleared his throat. “Yes, it does. I just…have never been great at the whole relationship thing.”

 

   “Me neither,” Keith shrugged. “But it doesn’t hurt to try.”

 

   It was a loaded statement. Trying would hurt them greatly if it didn’t go well. But it was so optimistic and so unlike Keith that Lance had to think about it. And then he smiled because Keith _liked_ him. Liked him enough to want to be with him. It was a warm feeling, one that he forgot after all the failed relationships and soul-crushing heartbreaks. The fluttery feeling of something _new_.

 

   The kettle whistled, alerting both boys that the hot water was ready. Keith hurried to grab the handle and rushed out of the kitchen. Lance trailed behind, curious to see the urgency of the situation. They went into the driveway and approached the truck, where Keith handed the steaming kettle over the Lance.

 

   “Pour this over the dent,” Keith said. Lance cocked his head but did as Keith instructed. Keith left and came back from the garage with a plunger. When the water stopped pouring, Keith immediately stamped the plunger on the dent and pulled up. The plunger came away with a quick sucking sound and _boom_ , the dent popped out.

 

   “How’d you do that?” Lance gasped as he put down the kettle. He touched the spot where it _wasn’t_ dented gingerly. The metal was warm from the boiled water.

 

   “Old trick my mom taught me,” Keith said, putting down the plunger. “Can I kiss you?”

 

   Lance’s head whipped to Keith, who was standing nonchalantly with his arms crossed. He looked blasé, but his foot jiggled as Lance stared him down. Lance realized he hadn’t kissed someone since Nyma, who had dumped him in May. Another exciting thrill shot down his spine as he walked closer to Keith, slowly, like a cat. He still had _some_ swagger.

 

   Their faces were inches apart before Keith spoke. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

   “Yes,” Lance whispered. “Yes, you can kiss me. Please kiss me.”

 

   And maybe it sounded desperate, but Lance didn’t care. Clearly, Keith didn’t either, because he surged forward and pressed his lips against Lance’s own. Lance’s hands found their way into Keith’s hair, his fingers working quickly to pull off Keith’s bright red hair tie. Keith’s hair was soft to the touch. Lance could run his fingers through it forever and ever. Keith moved his hands under Lance’s jacket, pressing onto the small of his back. It was so intimate and warm that Lance shivered.

 

   They kissed, for a little. It was very tender and shy, so unlike every kiss Lance had ever had. His past lovers had kissed him hard and fast, full of tongue and the anticipation of _something more_. But Keith’s tongue rarely made a strong appearance. It was extremely refreshing, and it made Lance feel young.

 

   “Wowie,” Lance laughed as they pulled apart. He mentally smacked himself. “I said ‘wowie.’ I am so sorry you had to witness that.”

 

   “Wowie is right,” Keith said softly, the fondest smile on his face. “You’re a great kisser.”

 

   “So are you,” Lance replied sheepishly, looking away. He kept his hands loosely on the sides of Keith’s neck.

 

   “Well,” Keith said, and Lance could feel the other boy heat up under his hands, “you’re my first.”

 

   Lance looked back. It was Keith’s turn to avoid eye contact. “Your first what? Boy kiss?”

 

   “Kiss-kiss,” Keith responded, trying to clear his throat. He tried to move back, but Lance kept a firm grip on him. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

   “It is,” Lance assured. He smiled. “I’m honored to be your first.”

 

   Keith looked back, emboldened. “How about my second?”

 

   Lance didn’t even bother responding as he pulled Keith in for another kiss. The second was even better than the first. Lance hoped he could kiss Keith forever.

 

   “Oh,” Keith said, pulling away. “Just one thing, I’m sorry.”

 

   “Shoot,” Lance said. He’d answer anything if it meant Keith could keep kissing him.

 

   “Are we going to do the long-distance thing?” Keith asked. “I want to. I really do. And I’m sorry if I’m ruining a good moment, but it’s been pressing on my mind a lot lately.”

 

   Lance wanted to laugh, but he kept it inside. It was just a relief to know that Keith wanted Lance as bad as Lance wanted him. “Me too. I wanna do that, too. I’ll be in Arizona. Is that a problem for you?”

 

   Keith kissed him chastely and then pulled away. “I’m going to Garrison Tech.”

 

   Garrison Technology Institute was a major university in Arizona, one of the top schools for all things STEM. Pidge was going there in the fall, Matt was already over there – and it was just thirty minutes from Laith College. Which is where Lance was going to be. Lance let a giggle of happiness come from his lips.

 

   “Laith,” he responded.

 

   “Close enough,” Keith mumbled, bringing him in for yet another kiss. Lance wasn’t complaining.

 

   The biting chill of autumn was fast approaching as Lance shivered in Keith’s embrace. It was weird, the warmth from Keith against the wind. A nice weird. A weird he could get used to. And as Keith pulled him tight, their mouths hot, their skin flushed, Lance realized he _would_ get used to it.

 

   They pulled away after a few minutes, but Lance didn’t mind. He was Keith’s, and Keith was his. It was kind of funny, staring at this boy who he once considered an enemy, whose lips he had just kissed red and swollen. There was once a time he would’ve seriously minded being so close to Keith. But this? Kissing him until they were breathless? Riding late into the night on a motorcycle? Fixing cars and eating fries and stealing sips from Coca Colas?

 

   Well, honestly, he didn’t mind that one bit.

  

  

 

 

  

 

  

 

 

  

 

**Author's Note:**

> bittersweet, my friends. bitter, because i really was digging this series, plus my life has been a shit show lately and this fic was a big escape for me. sweet, because i finally finished it after about a month and i'm extremely proud of it. i'm hoping to post more soon, since i had a lot of different prompt ideas come to me while writing this. i really hope you guys enjoyed this series!! pop in a kudos if you don't mind ;)
> 
> love, q ♡


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